


clarion call

by SiriCerasi



Series: this war's not over [7]
Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Audrey doesn't want to be your personal savior, Audrey really likes her guns, Boys and their Issues, Destiny, Exhaustion, F/M, Fate, Female Friendship, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Jealousy, Memory Alteration, Multiple Personalities, Nathan is a good guard dog, Nightmares, Other, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Past Lives, Screw Destiny, Therapy, Vomiting, all the Audreys are BAMFs, he also smells good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiriCerasi/pseuds/SiriCerasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(3.08 - post-s3 finale: NO s4 spoilers) It's funny; when she's down there she wants so badly to remember. Once here, she wishes she could forget. Wishes the memories would dull, even a little. But they're as sharp as though they'd just happened, even events of half a millenia ago. She remembers every moment she's ever lived on Earth, every hurt, every joy. Every love. Every time, she thinks maybe it will be different. Every time remains the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. scarborough fair / canticle

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** So, I've been debating when to post this for months now. And I was inspired by today's [trailer release](http://tvline.com/2013/07/08/haven-season-4-premiere-date-promo/), as I hate posting things once they're AU and it's only going to get worse from here!
> 
> This fic actually began as a mix, fondly known as "Fuckers With Feelings", that I started back in October/November when Shit Got Real. It's now 104 songs, 9 discs, and I THINK I'm going to call it done. Which I've said like 0293483 times but. Really this time.
> 
> That said, the reason I've debated posting this is I'm highly likely to want to go back and edit earlier chapters, as the fic isn't done yet and there's a larger mythology that I'm working in. SO, if you want to read this only when it's done and won't be edited any more, then wait. I'm HOPING to have it all done by s4 premiere, which is earlier than I'd thought (YAAAAAAAAAAAAY) but it's 104 freaking chapters and I didn't want to post it ALL in one go ;) It starts pre-finale, and then goes quite a bit post finale, so I really want it done by 9/13, and posting things tends to motivate me. A lot of the chapters could technically be read as one-shots as well, at least for the beginning.
> 
> I'm going to post the mix as well, probably spaced as 9 discs as I finish those sections of the fic.
> 
> Um, yeah this is a long A/N. If you actually read this far, COOKIES FOR YOU. Basically, read this fic at your own risk =P

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_tell her to find me an acre of land, between the salt water and the sea strand..._ **
> 
> She wonders, sometimes, _what_ she is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Spoilers:** Through s3  
>  **Chapter Rating:** T  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** None  
>  **Chapter Characters:** Audrey Parker  
>  **A/N:** Song for this chapter is "[Scarborough Fair / Canticle](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XEhAXQ5QQzs)".

  _[a hill in the deep forest green_  
 _tracing of sparrow on snow-crested brown_  
 _blankets and bedclothes, the child of the mountain_  
 _sleeps unaware of the clarion call_

___on the side of a hill, a sprinkling of leaves_  
 _washes the grave with silvery tears  
_ _a soldier cleans and polishes a gun_  


_war bellows blazing in scarlet battalions_  
 _generals order their soldiers to kill_  
 _and to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten]_

**_xxx_ **

She wonders, sometimes, _what_ she is.

An angel, a demon, human? Troubled? A curse or a miracle? A harbinger of hope and despair, of life and death, dualities in balance.

For the most part.

She wonders if she's part of some massive cosmic game, just a pawn in someone's sick machinations. ( _A_ knight, Nathan tells her. _Too unpredictable to be a pawn._ She laughs )

She'd rather be a queen, if they're getting all technical. Instead, she turns out to be some sort of sacrificial lamb. She's _special_ , they say. She can help people, she's the _only one_ who can help these innocent Troubled people, but in the end she's still just a lamb being led to the slaughter. No matter how hard she fights, whatever path she tries to take, she still ends up in the same damn place every time.

She's tied to this land, somehow. That much she knows, in her skin, her bones, the blood in her veins. She's strongest here, in the place that's somehow _hers_ , the place that will never really be her home. Not anymore. (Maybe once, it was. Maybe it will be again, someday.)

[Time passes in leaps and bounds, sometimes lets her witness a flower grow from seed to full-bloom, sometimes slows enough for her to watch each wing beat of the bee now nestled at its core. Forward and backward and sideways but somehow always progressing, always telling a story. For her, she thinks. It's a story for her.

Empires rise and fall, history is written and unwritten and rewritten but it all remains, locked in her mind, in this structure that's not quite alive but certainly not dead. It is, like her, a paradox, an inconsistency in the fabric of reality that seems to blanket the rest of the world while they hover here, unnoticed. Forgotten.

(Almost).

She watches them age, the ones she loves for so brief a time. Grow, hurt and laugh, fall in love. Die. At times she hates it, screams and pounds her fists into the wall until they're bruised and bloody and broken. She sleeps and sleeps until she can't anymore, until the draw to know drives her back to watching. Waiting. Knowing that she won't remember, when she finally returns.

But they will. She's never sure which is worse.

It's funny; when she's down there she wants so badly to remember. Once here, she wishes she could forget. Wishes the memories would dull, even a little. But they're as sharp as though they'd just happened, even events of half a millennia ago. She remembers every moment she's ever lived on Earth, every hurt, every joy. Every love.

Every time, she thinks maybe it will be different.

Every time remains the same.]

 _I'll try to change things_ , she promises Nathan, and she means it.

_**xxx** _

_are you going to scarborough fair?_  
 _parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme_  
 _remember me to one who lives there_  
 _she once was a true love of mine_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments are love *g* I'd really love to know what you guys think of this one. Next update soon!


	2. come away to the water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_come away, little lamb, come away to the slaughter..._ **
> 
> It's not quite a plea, but it's close enough to leave a bad taste in her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Spoilers:** Through s3  
>  **Chapter Rating:** T  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** None  
>  **Chapter Characters/Pairings:** Audrey & Claire  
>  **Author's Notes:** Whee look, a quick update =P Thanks for reviews/follows etc, you guys are awesome!
> 
> Song for this chapter is "[Come Away To the Water](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fZ7pWATs-rM)" by Maroon 5 Ft. Rozzi Crane

  
_come away, little lass, come away to the water_   
_to the ones that are waiting only for you_   
_(away from the life that you always knew)_   


  
_come away, little light, come away to the darkness_   
_to the ones appointed to see it through_   
_(in the shade of the night we'll come looking for you)_   


  
_come away, little lamb, come away to the water_   
_to the arms that are waiting only for you_   
_(give yourself so we might live anew)_   


_**xxx** _

Tommy’s been dead for a day and the noose closes tighter, so tight it’s all Audrey can do not to clutch at her neck. (Claire would have a _field day_ with that.)

“He’s still out there,” she states, very quietly. Tugs at her necklace, hard enough that it digs into her neck. “He escaped that explosion, somehow. I know he did. He kidnapped me, burned a woman alive and probably meant to kill me too. He pretended to be a cop for _weeks_ and no one caught on. He _shot_ Nathan.” Her voice cracks on that, and Claire’s face softens the way it does when she’s seriously concerned. Audrey hates it.

“Do you-”

“No.” It’s cold, unnecessarily cruel, but Audrey absolutely cannot deal with that right now. Claire’s mouth tightens, a hard glint in her eyes that takes Audrey aback. It almost looks like betrayal, twists something in Audrey’s stomach that feels disturbingly like guilt.

She talks into that pit, the way she always has. “Tommy has been two steps ahead of us this entire time, and I need to figure out how the hell he’s managing that. I need to get inside his head.” It’s not quite a plea, but it’s close enough to leave a bad taste in her mouth. Claire studies her with something between anger and anguish.

“Fine,” she answers tightly. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Audrey chews her lip, distracts herself from the guilt with more anxiety. “And what the hell was he doing at some random shack the Teague brothers own? What were _they_ even doing there?” She presses her palms to her eyes, sighs in frustration. “They are in the middle of everything, and yet somehow they manage to give me absolutely nothing.” She looks up with a small grin, suggests, “Maybe you should talk to them.”

Claire actually laughs. “Not a chance.” Audrey raises an eyebrow, and the therapist shrugs. “They scare the hell out of me.”

“You’ll deal with shadow killers and man-hating machines, but a couple of old men scare you?”

Claire doesn’t look the least bit put off, just answers, “Yup. Especially Vince.” It makes Audrey feel strangely better, that she’s not the only one who finds them mildly terrifying despite their goofiness. They’re neck deep in all of this. They’ve seen the horrors that come from their secrets, and they still keep them. She feels like somehow, despite all their apparent concern for her well-being, they’re more dangerous than Tommy. Like they’re lions in sheeps' clothing, waiting patiently to strike.

“Besides,” Claire continues with a pointed glance at Audrey. “I only try to talk to people who want my help.”

The knot in her stomach clenches, twists and coils like it’s trying to eat her alive.

_**xxx** _

_we are calling for you  
we are coming for you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always love =)


	3. travelling woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _**play in the ashes of what you once were...** _
> 
> Audrey finds herself pulled unbearably taut between the two, between her son and the man she loves enough to sacrifice… what? What, exactly, is she truly willing to give up for Nathan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Spoilers:** Through s3  
>  **Chapter Rating:** T  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** None  
>  **Chapter Characters/Pairings:** Audrey/Nathan, Claire Callahan  
>  **Author's Notes:** Fill for my prompt "forced to hurt somebody".
> 
> A note on the Claire Chronology - in my headcanon, she's real!Claire through 3.09 (Sarah) and is killed sometime between 3.09 and 3.10 (Burned). So she was Claire in the last chapter, and still is for this one. This is set after the deleted scene from Sarah that Shawn Piller posted [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nv1hAPLzNsk). (It's fabulous, I'm angry they cut it. Also stars in quite a bit of the gag reel ;) )
> 
> Song for this chapter is "[Travelling Woman](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a4XXkz4iFUM)" by Bat For Lashes

 

 

_hang on, travelling woman_  
 _don't sacrifice your plan_  
 _cause it will come back to you_  
 _before you lose it on the man_

  
_never fall in love with potential_  
 _cause you can't see with your own eyes_  
 _all the pretty faces and sorry words_  
 _can take away your pride_

_**xxx** _

 

 

_How about start with ‘I love you?’_

It’s tempting, for half a second, to listen to Claire. To let go of all of it, to stop trying to save everyone, to just _be_. But then she looks at Tommy’s file again, remembers the pieces of women scattered across Haven, and shuts down that dream for the thousandth time.

Later, when all of this is over, if she can find a way to stay – then there will be time.

Still, she can tell Nathan is becoming more and more frustrated with her hunt for James – and with good reason, she supposes. To him, The Colorado Kid is just a random stranger Lucy knew, maybe loved. Audrey finds herself pulled unbearably taut between the two, between her son and the man she loves enough to sacrifice… what? What, exactly, is she truly willing to give up for Nathan? Can she really give up on her son to find a way to stay?

“Is he really your son?” Claire asks, when they’ve poured over everything they have on Tommy again, and still come up empty. “He’s _Sarah’s_ son, Audrey. You keep saying that you’re not Sarah, you’re not Lucy – so how can he be _your_ son?”

Audrey can only stare for a moment, bites her lip hard enough that she tastes blood. “Because I want him to be,” she answers eventually, staring at her hands. “Because I have to believe I can leave something behind other than painful… memories and ruined lives.” Anguish flicks across Claire’s face, nearly imperceptible.

_Because it feels right_ , Audrey wants to explain. _Because I just_ know _._ But does she, really? He’s her blood, that much she does know. But in the end, he is just a stranger. Abandoned by his mother – not that Sarah had a choice, but could James understand that? Had Lucy explained it to him? If ( _when_ ) Audrey finds him, will he really want anything to do with another woman calling herself his mother?

“That’s understandable.” Claire’s voice breaks her thoughts, far too rational for Audrey’s state of mind. “But you’re giving up everything you have here, this life you’ve built, all for a man _you_ have never met. Of course Nathan’s upset, Audrey.” Audrey blinks, gives Claire a surprised look, wondering where that had come from. Claire rolls her eyes. “Seriously, I could _float_ in the tension you two were brewing up. Look at it from Nathan’s perspective. You’re choosing to fight for a man you don’t know, you’ve never even met, instead of fighting for yourself and your life here. For the _people_ here.”

The ball in Audrey’s stomach swells, grows jagged claws that rake their tips across her insides. She wants to scream, to make Claire _stop_ , but her throat closes over and Claire continues, “You’re choosing James over Nathan, and he can’t understand why, because you haven’t told him.” It’s close enough to an accusation to snap Audrey’s shields up, defensive words on the tip of her tongue – but they fade, because Claire is overwhelmingly right.

“It’s too late,” she answers wearily. “Two weeks and I’m gone, Claire. Restarting things now would just make it harder for him.”

“Harder for _you_.” There’s a harshness to Claire’s voice that sends a shiver down Audrey’s spine. “However this goes down, if you disappear, it’s going to hurt Nathan. But you – you won’t remember this pain. You’ll never know any of this happened, you won’t have to _feel_ this again. So right now? It’s easier _for you_ to just avoid the problem than deal with it. Because hey, avoid it for two more weeks and you’ll never have to deal with it at all!” Her mocking tone grates on Audrey’s ears, too damn close to _right_.

“You think this is _easy_?” Audrey hears her voice crack, almost irreparably, and hates Claire for it. Hates that she can play Audrey this well, hates that they’re having this conversation at all when she’d _told_ Claire she didn’t want to talk. (That never seems to work, somehow.)

Claire’s face softens, and she sighs heavily. “No, Audrey. This is the farthest thing from easy. But you have a bad habit of avoiding things, and while usually I would coax all of this out of you over months, we don’t have that kind of time. And I’m pretty sure that if you go leaving things like this with Nathan…” She shrugs. “Everyone will regret that. And we’ll be the ones who have to deal with a mopey Chief of Police.” Audrey can’t help smiling at that, the smallest bit, and the razor coil in her stomach subsides a little.

“I was going to tell him,” she states, twisting her fingers in knots and studying faint cracks in the wall. “After he was…” She still can’t say it, not without the world crashing in on her. “I was going to tell him everything. But then Jordan was there.”

Claire’s face smooths over at the mention of Jordan’s name, her jaw clenching. “Did he go to her?” Audrey blinks.

“What?”

Claire tilts her head with a small, smug smile. “Nathan. You said Jordan was there, and that’s why you didn’t talk to him. But did he leave, or did you?”

“I…” _Maybe we can skip the party. Go somewhere, talk._

_Now’s not a good time…_ “I want him to be happy,” she finally answers. Knows it’s not an answer at all. Claire’s eyebrows shoot up, practically into her hair.

“Really _,_ Audrey? Do you _really_ want me to poke holes in that argument?” Audrey glares, crossing her arms across herself. She _does_ want him to be happy. At first, she’d pushed him away to keep him safe. But now…

[Some move on. Some spend every moment searching for a way to save her, to bring her back, to keep her here. Some try to forget, but in the end she ruins them all.]

Audrey just _knows_ , somehow, that she can’t drag Nathan in any deeper than he already is. Can’t let him love her, not the way both of them want. Because when she’s ripped away, the deeper the roots, the harder for him it will be. Better than Jordan is there, to start filling in the gaps Audrey’s already started to leave behind.

(There’s still that annoying, nagging doubt that tugs at her, unfurls the knot in her stomach. That he’d moved on so easily; that maybe, he’d never really wanted her at all...) Audrey bites her lip, shakes her head sharply. “It’s better this way,” she states, a finality to her tone that should stop even-

“You pushed him away because you think he really cares about Jordan,” Claire bowls right on. “And you don’t want to put yourself out there and risk getting hurt.”

Audrey occasionally wonders if Claire is Troubled, because there’s _no way_ anyone could read her _that well._

She finds herself staring at the therapist for a moment, finally just nods mutely because denying it won’t do anyone any good. Claire sighs. “Audrey, I’ve seen just about every type of love, lust, obsession, rejection… And I can tell you that Nathan Wuornos is absolutely, irrevocably in love with you. He would do anything for you. Yes, he and Jordan have a connection, and yes, he probably cares about her, but he doesn’t _love_ her. Not the way he loves you.”

“That’s the problem,” Audrey says softly.

Claire has no answer for that.

 

 

 

**xxx**

 

She tells Nathan about James. It changes nothing.

 

 

**xxx**

 

_got to listen to the vision_  
 _some may say a dream_  
 _words from the unseen_  
  
 _or it can make you tired, tell you lies, make you fall_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love!


	4. no one would riot for less

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **play in the ashes of what you once were...**
> 
>  
> 
> But god, she doesn't want to do this alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Spoilers:** Through s3  
>  **Chapter Rating:** T  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** None  
>  **Chapter Characters/Pairings:** Audrey/Nathan, past!Audrey (Vera Bunker)  
>  **Author's Notes:** Thanks to my awesome beta [cherrygurl1225](http://www.fanfiction.net/u/589121/cherrygurl1225), who managed to not break my fragile writer's ego ;)
> 
> Thus begins the epic past!Audreys. Seriously, they are awesome.
> 
> Song for this chapter is "[No One Would Riot For Less](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dqeK_dnPDHQ)" by Bright Eyes  
> 

_death may come invisible, or in a holy wall of fire_  
 _in the breath between the markers on some black i-80 mile_  
 _from the madness of the governments_  
 _to the vengeance of the sea_  
 _everything is eclipsed by the shape of destiny_  


**xxx**

The days count down, and she comes no closer to answers. It's as though the town itself is conspiring against her, throwing up barriers to every question, leading her in circles and circles until she's too dizzy to figure out a thing. She feels like she's barreling toward her death with eyes glued open, can see vague glimpses of the horror that awaits, but never enough to _know_. Only twists and turns that always pull her away at the last moment, that keep her from truly seeing, that spiral closer and closer to that dreaded deadline while somehow still crawling away. Ever closer, never approaching.

But she knows – she knows that she'll hit that wall. Wants to close her eyes but can't, can't risk dragging the entire town into that vortex with her.

They find the body – burned, unrecognizable. And it's Tommy, impossibly dead for five weeks, and she should be surprised but somehow nothing in Haven can really shock her anymore. It only makes her job that much harder, only makes protecting Nathan and the rest that much more difficult. Audrey Parker doesn't give up, ever, but god is it tempting.

Keep going. She has to keep fighting, even if only for another couple days. She won't give up this close to the end; she won't have that be her last memory. Won't have that be everyone's last memory of her.

She wonders if somewhere, whoever had orchestrated this entire sick game is watching. Laughing. Waiting for her to make a move, waiting to see what she'll do when she's backed into a corner.

**xxx**

_little soldier, little insect_  
 _you know war, it has no heart_  
 _it will kill you in the sunshine or happily in the dark_  


**xxx**

[She's different, this time. It starts slowly, a gradual self-awareness that grows with each reincarnation. Maybe it's her; maybe it's humanity, with its leaps and bounds. For so long he'd relied on her need to serve, on her blind faith in his higher power, her belief in miracles. But she begins to question, begins to wonder, begins to stray from her carefully planned path.

She figures it out earlier, each time. He does what he can to mitigate the damage but there's never enough time and she's too clever; she's always been too clever. The written word makes it hard, photographs harder. Newspaper and computers, databases available in an instant – it becomes impossible to hide all traces. And he'd bred her to be open, accepting of all possibilities. It had been inevitable, really.]

**xxx**

_he says, help me out_  
 _hell is coming_  
 _but could you do it now?_  
 _hell is here_  


**xxx**

Nathan watches her, concern slashed across his face, and she desperately wants to reassure him but finds she simply can't anymore. She's so tired, of hiding and lying and searching for answers that never seem to come. Or when they do, they leave her only a thousand more questions. And she continues hurtling toward that nothing, the void that will consume her, spit her back out in 27 years with nothing left.

She wonders, not for the first time, if she could take anything with her. Any _one_. She doesn't know where she goes, or how, but she can't help wondering. _If_. If, at the end of all of this horror, that silver lining did prove real – if Nathan could come with her…

She can't believe she's even thinking it. But the thought won't shake itself, no matter how much she presses it down. It isn't fair to him, to drag him down with her into that sinister gloom of her fate. (A little part of her screams _it's his choice_ , but she can't even dignify that with a fully formed thought. She doesn't get to refuse his choice to help her before, and accept it when it benefits her. She can't be that selfish. She _won't_.)

But god, she doesn't want to do this alone.

**xxx**

_well wake, baby, wake_  
 _but leave that blanket around you_  
 _there is nowhere as safe_

_i'm leaving this place_  
 _but there's nothing i'm planning to take_  
 _just you_  
 _just you_  


**xxx**

[Vera is the first. It's purely luck, really, stumbling onto an old painting in the basement of the little trade shop she'd starting working at a few weeks back. Buried under a mound of junk, but reverently wrapped as though someone had wanted to preserve it.

She doesn't understand it, at first. Vera had crossed to the Colonies alone, had left no family behind. She has no blood relations in this world, and even if she did, they'd be across the ocean.

It isn't _possible_.

A lot of things that shouldn't be possible crop up in the next few months, and it should be surprising that she can handle them but somehow it's not. Somehow it just seems natural, _right_ , even in the face of all the abnormality and transgression. A path she follows easily, a groove she fits into with absolute perfection.

But still, that painting nags at her. Wriggles in the back of her mind, knocking loose a few bricks in that precise path, and sometimes it's not quite as easy to follow.

Still, when the man appears and tells her to come with him into a barn in the middle of nowhere, it feels like coming home.]

**xxx**

_see the sterile soil, poisoned sky, yellow water_  
 _final scraps of life bringing new tears_  


**xxx**

I got this. You go find whoever-  
 **-we will. I can't just abandon one child for another.**  
 **I've gotta help this little girl. That's what we're here to do, right?**  


****xxx** **

Fate, it seems, will always be against her. Nathan finally wants her to go after her son, and she's finally ready to give in to whatever happens. She wonders if they'll ever really be in sync again, and it makes her so unbearably sad it's all she can do to laugh.

Helping the Troubled – it's what _she's_ here to do. Not him. Never him. It's her job, her fate. Her destiny. She can't drag him into it, no matter how badly it tears at her soul. She can't ask him to come with her, wherever she goes. That had destroyed James, and it's the last thing she'll do to Nathan. (Because she knows – she knows that if she asked, whatever the price, Nathan would come. Even if it killed him, she knows he'd try. And selfishly, so selfishly, she can't allow that. She wouldn't survive that.)

"Hey, Parker." She's already halfway back to her car from the ice cream stand, so lost in her thoughts she jumps. Nathan touches her arm, stopping her. "We will find him, whoever it is. Whoever is hunting your son." Audrey looks away, smiling tightly, and can't help wondering if it even matters anymore. So little time left, and so many questions – too many. She'd somehow convinced herself that after she'd found James, there would be time to fix things with Nathan, time to find a way to stay. (Time to make herself believe again, that she can do this. That _they_ can.) But there's no time left, only a desperation that's settled so deeply on her chest it's all she can do to breathe. She'd given up on herself a long time ago, she realizes absently. All she's had to cling to is the Colorado Kid, and that hope keeps getting pulled just out of reach again and again and again.

She almost wants the deadline to be here, to end this constant anxiety that only increases moment to moment. She can see no better way out.

But Nathan – Nathan won't give up. "Audrey," he says sharply, and her eyes flick back to his. Recently so conflicted, so tortured, now they blaze with a clear sense of purpose. "We are going to figure this out."

He sounds so certain that she can almost, _almost_ believe.

**xxx**

_so love me now_  
 _hell is coming_  
 _yeah, kiss my mouth_  
 _hell is here_  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Vera Bunker = Truth/Faith of Good Heart)
> 
> Reviews are love!
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER: Horse & I


	5. horse & i

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **banquet for the shadows...**
> 
> All she hears is the beating of his heart, right against her cheek. A rhythmic pounding, dancing in her head, pulsing through her body until they move together, her head against his chest, the smallest _thu-thump_ in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Spoilers:** Through s3
> 
>  **Chapter Rating:** T  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** None  
>  **Chapter Characters/Pairings:** Nathan/Audrey, Jordan McKee, Duke Crocker  
>  **Author's Notes:** Set during 3.10 (Burned)
> 
> Thanks to my awesome betas [cherrygurl1225](http://www.fanfiction.net/u/589121/cherrygurl1225) & [AlwaysLera](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysLera/) who managed to not break my fragile writer's ego ;)
> 
> Song for this chapter is "[Horse & I](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RDlQGx1L-wc)" by Bat For Lashes

_got woken in the night by a mystic golden light_  
 _my head soaked in river water_  
 _i had been dressed in a coat of armor_  
 _they called a horse out of the woodland  
_ _take her there, through the desert shores_

_horse and i, we're dancers in the dark_

**xxx**

She’s always known she’s part of a war, but she hadn’t realized just how single-handedly she could _end_ it. No more bloodshed, no more terrified, tortured innocents – and all it will take is walking into a barn.

Should be easy enough.

(Except Nathan is looking at her with that expression that tears through her, down to her core. The look that tangles her in knots and rakes its razor claws along her insides, makes it impossible to breathe.)

Why _her_?

She’d thought she wanted answers. But now – now she longs for the ignorance of hours ago, of months. Wishes she’d never learned about the Hunter, that she could’ve spent the past 45 days in relative happiness instead of fighting the inevitable and ending up right back where she’d started. Nowhere. Everything she’d done, everything she’d learned – it hadn’t changed a thing. Her newfound knowledge had only served to push Nathan away, to crawl into her dreams and create this monster inside her, all angry claws and teeth of steel and bitter rage. A brittle backbone of iron that breaks with far too little pressure.

More than anything, she wants Nathan. She wants him to work his way in past this steel armor she doesn’t want, she’d never wanted. To disarm her the way he used to, with a smile or a touch or a monosyllabic word. She just wants him to _look_ at her again, without anguish or fear or misery. To look at her with that small quirk of his lips that could warm her beyond reason, with the passion that’s now reserved for Jordan – love or hate, Jordan still gets all of it. It may be because of Audrey, but _Jordan_ still gets the full force of it and that stings, somehow.

And Jordan – Jordan looks at her with enough anger and jealousy and _awe_ that Audrey’s stomach churns, the single cup of coffee she’d had hours ago climbing up her throat. As though Audrey was the answer to everything; as though Audrey was some kind of _savior_.

She wants to scream, to cry, make them see that she doesn’t _want_ to be their savior. She doesn’t want this fate, she doesn’t want to be special, to be _chosen._ She only wants to be Audrey, Audrey Parker from Ohio who loves Justin Timberlake and hates runny eggs and loves Duke’s waffles and Nathan… just Nathan.

But Jordan continues to stare at her, tears on her cheeks and supplication in her eyes and it’s too much, it’s too damn much.

Duke follows her outside where she leans against the railing, gasping, gun dangling from limp fingers. He takes her shoulders, hands suddenly the only thing keeping her from shaking apart, and for once he says nothing. Just rubs his thumbs against her arms gently, a steady anchor against the looming chaos. She listens to the boom of voices coming from inside the Gull, hopes maybe Nathan will get some anxiety out of his system even if she can’t shed an ounce of hers.

The voices quiet and Nathan slams through the door, eyes taking in Duke and Audrey and it’s like he just _dies_ a little, all over again. His face closes off, shoulders tightening, and then Audrey’s stumbled the small distance between them and launched herself into his arms. There isn’t enough time for this, for the jealousy and the push and pull; there’s just no fucking _time_ left.

Nathan’s arms wrap around her automatically, enclosing her in warmth, and she knows they need to go rescue Ginger’s dad and take Jordan to the station but somehow she can’t move, can’t pull herself away from this safety. Nathan presses a feather-light kiss to the top of her head, his voice gentle as he murmurs reassurances she doesn’t hear. All she hears is the beating of his heart, right against her cheek. A rhythmic pounding, dancing in her head, pulsing through her body until they move together, her head against his chest, the smallest _thu-thump_ in unison.

It’s the first time they’ve been in sync in weeks.

But- “We need to go,” she mumbles into his chest, trying to steel her voice against her own trembling.

“I know.” Neither of them moves, though. His arms tighten around her protectively (and she no longer knows who he’s trying to protect her _from_ , thinks maybe she needs protection from herself the most right now). His breath is warm on her cheek and she lets herself have this, just this once. Just for a moment, because soon she’ll have none left.

Duke leaves to get Ginger, squeezing Audrey’s shoulder gently on his way past, and by the time the two return she’s dry-eyed and ready.

**xxx**

_came upon the headdress  
_ _it was gilded, dark and golden  
_ _the children sang  
_ _i was so afraid, i took it to my head and prayed_

_they sang to me: this is yours to wear  
_ _you're the chosen one, there's no turning back now  
_ _there is no turning back_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love!
> 
>  **Next chapter:** The Girl Who Stole The Stars


	6. the girl who stole the stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nathan,” Duke says conversationally. “ _What the hell_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Spoilers:** Through s3
> 
>  **Chapter Rating:** R  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Past child abuse  
>  **Chapter Characters/Pairings:** Nathan Wuornos, Duke Crocker, Garland Wuornos
> 
>  **Author's Notes:** Sorry for the long delay, I'm in the middle of moving so RL is crazy. This chapter is set during 3.11 (Last Goodbyes), after the phone call where Audrey tells Nathan she has things to tell him and he says they should do it in person.
> 
> Song for this chapter is "[The Girl Who Stole The Stars](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CxbQI3VpTuc)" by Yasunori Mitsuda.
> 
> Thanks again to my awesome beta [cherrygurl1225](http://www.fanfiction.net/u/589121/cherrygurl1225)!

_**xxx** _

_(instrumental)_

**xxx**

An 8pm cup of coffee has become routine for Nathan. Another at 9, then 10, and he doesn't stop until his vision starts to blur, hands shaking too hard to type or hold a pen. He naps on his couch, if he can get his mind to stop for a moment. Wakes when Laverne comes in at 7am, sharp, and drops a bag of Rosemary's pastries and a cup of black coffee on his desk without a word. And it starts all over again.

So he's a little surprised when he notices his hands are shaking and it's only 12:34am. He's trying to fill out paperwork, another request to the FBI for information on James Cogan or Tommy Bowen (they'd ignored his last two, but he won't give up, he'll _never_ give up on this), but his signature's all wrong and there are damp spots on the paper.

He wipes at his eyes, stares at his fingers and finds them wet. His breathing sounds odd, he notices absently, a strange rasping that's far too rapid. The adrenaline that's been a near-constant presence for the past few weeks is running harder, he realizes. He hadn't even noticed, so used to the anxiety that refuses to abate. It's one thing he'd be perfectly fine NOT feeling, and of course it's the one thing he still can.

Nathan tries to stand but his legs won't hold him, numb weights that promptly drop him on the floor. He can see himself shaking, the oddest sensation, can hear his teeth rattling. And the tightness in his chest, closing off his lungs, the half-forgotten symptoms of panic attacks he hasn't had in 20 years.

For a moment he misses the Chief desperately – misses his father. In this one thing, Garland Wuornos had been the father Nathan had desperately needed. Even after his mother died, when Garland had effectively forgotten Nathan's existence, he was somehow always there through every panic attack. And all the judgement, the talk of being strong and learning to deal, all of that would fall away. For those moments, Nathan had been just a scared little boy, and he'd somehow known that that was okay.

Now, though. He's not a little boy anymore, and the hazy memories of a thousand past episodes do nothing to calm him.

Footsteps echo in the hall, and he should probably drag himself up off the floor but he's too tired to care, too shaky to do anything but faceplant all over again.

"Uh, Nathan?" That's Duke's voice, an odd note of concern making it nearly unrecognizable.

"Get out," Nathan growls. Or tries to. It comes out as an incomprehensible whine that hurts his ears. From the corner of his eye he sees Duke open and close his mouth a few times, probably debating how to make himself feel better about leaving, but to Nathan's shock he steps through the doorway.

"I came by to… see if you…" Duke waves a hand distractedly, still staring at Nathan where he's pressed into the corner as one might regard a rabid dog **.** Nathan finds himself laughing, although the gasping sounds that claw from his throat sound nowhere close to amused, and Duke takes a cautious step forward.

"Is there another crazy Trouble?" Duke asks. "Cause if there is I should probably…"

The lightness to his voice clears Nathan's head enough that he manages to croak, " _Go_." Duke opens and closes his mouth again, then states, "Yeah, I don't think so." And they're sixteen all over again, Nathan's mom dead and the Chief pretending he doesn't exist and the panic is there, crushing his lungs. A tingling in his hands and legs that terrifies him, a phantom memory so real he can almost, _almost_ feel it.

Duke's beside him, a hand on his arm that Nathan shrugs off violently, probably hurting himself in the process but what the hell does it matter? "Dammit, Nate, stop fighting me," Duke growls. "I'm trying to help you."

"Don't need your help," Nathan gasps. Duke laughs, low in his throat.

"Right. Right, you're Superman, I forgot. But you're also not _breathing_ , Nathan."

Nathan drops his head wearily, hears the clunk of bone against bone as he hits his knees, hard. There's a sick feeling in his stomach that has nothing to do with skin or nerve endings, only memories half-forgotten. Tacks in his back, an hour not breathing in the locker room. Hiding the bloody shirt, crying in frustration as he tries to clean the wounds in the mirror until the Chief finds him, speaks gently to him for the first time Nathan can remember.

 _I can't feel it,_ he'd sobbed, seven years old and too old to cry ( _shut the fuck up, boy, be glad you can't feel this)._ But no, that's not right, there are bruises he doesn't feel and his mother is cleaning the wounds and the Chief is only a vision, he was never there-

Nathan jerks forward and retches, misses the trashcan by a foot and nearly slams his head into the chair. Duke catches him, hands on Nathan's shoulders as he breathes, "Shit, Nate."

_Duke holds his hand at his mother's funeral, ten years old and far too old to cry. Fingers entwined between the chairs, hidden from view, because if Garland saw him with "that Crocker kid" he'd never hear the end of it._

No. Duke had never been there. Nathan had gone alone, fingers twisted in knots on his lap, nails digging painfully into his skin and he'd felt it, every bite. He'd enjoyed it.

He throws up again.

"Okay seriously, Nathan, what the hell." Duke sounds as worried as Nathan's ever heard, and that somehow snaps a little sanity through him. He wipes his mouth, slumps back against the wall and mutters, "'m fine."

Duke opens and closes his mouth, expression warring between concerned and long-suffering. He studies Nathan for a moment, finally states, "Normally I'd just give up and leave you here at this point, but Audrey would never let me hear the end of it." _Audrey_ …

"Is she okay?" Nathan gets those words out well enough, although his voice is rough and raw and his breathing still ragged. Duke rolls his eyes, sighing.

"Yes, Nathan, she's fine. Or as fine as can be expected. That's not why I came."

Nathan wants to snap. He wants to fling hatred and bile at the man until he leaves like he always does. But he is suddenly, overwhelmingly exhausted. Too exhausted to play these games with Duke anymore, the push and pull that tears at him more deeply than he can understand. The hatred that at times seems the most natural thing in the world, and at times so forced it's all he can do to bite the words out.

"So why did you?" Duke's already taken a breath, ready for the anger, but Nathan's voice is hollow and empty and seems to drain the fire from him. Nathan doesn't know why he asked; he doesn't think he really wants to know.

Duke is quiet for a few moments, studying a spot on the wall. Nathan might actually suspect he was _thinking_ , if it wasn't Duke.

"Second grade." Duke's voice sounds like grinding stone. There's a dull pressure inside Nathan's skull – not pain, just a strange tension that builds slowly. "Dad came home early with more cuts and bruises than he'd ever had and an empty bottle of whiskey. Found us playing together and he…" Duke chuckles darkly, looking up at the ceiling. "I'd never seen him that mad. He started raving about curses, saying you were an abomination, that I could never be seen with you, that you were bad. He came at me and you-" Duke looks at Nathan, his eyes dark with an emotion Nathan can't read. "-you jumped in front of me and took the hit."

Nathan looks at him blankly, images flitting through his brain but never settling. Pain-notpain. Phantom sensation against his cheek, stinging and there and gone.

Duke is watching him almost expectantly, finally states, "You don't remember." Nathan doesn't answer, because that's not right, exactly. He remembers. He remembers the Chief, telling him to stay away from Duke. He remembers his mother's face, soft and smiling ( _bruised_ ), tacks in his back and a broken arm and the pressure in his head. Fragments and puzzle pieces that had always seemed to form a nice picture until now, until those pieces were torn apart and the image on each of them changed. Like a puzzle that fits together neatly with no coherent image, or picture that he knows in his gut is _real_ but the pieces don't match, won't slide into place no matter how hard he pushes.

He wonders for a moment if this is how Audrey feels _(hands grip his fingers -PAIN- blue eyes and black hair)._

"Stop," he tries to say, but the words won't form.

"I'm remembering things, Nate," Duke contines, oblivious. "Things that just… they just _weren't_." Nathan thinks he might throw up again, feels the pressure in his head shift unbearably.

"Stop," he manages, raw and broken. Duke glares with renewed fire.

"Seriously? I'm trying to-"

"No, _stop_." Nathan breathes shallowly, closing his eyes when the world starts to spin a little. He focuses on here, now, on the sound of Duke's harsh breathing, the smell of whiskey on his breath and the oils on his desk and _here_.

The pressure fades, and Nathan opens his eyes. There's a tightness on Duke's face that looks far too close to terrified concern for Nathan's peace of mind, leaves a bad taste in his mouth. The man had long ago lost that right.

"Nathan," Duke says conversationally. " _What the hell_."

Nathan has no answer. He listens to his ragged breathing, digs nails into unfeeling skin, closes his eyes to watch the lights dancing on the insides of his eyelids. His mouth tastes _awful_.

Duke manages to keep his silence, until Nathan finally grates, "Not a _word_ to Audrey." It's almost a threat. Duke opens and closes his mouth, eventually nods. The last thing either of them wants is to give her more to worry about; that, at least, they can agree on.

"'What's one more?'" Nathan blinks. "That's what you said to me, when I asked why you'd done it," Duke clarifies. He's staring at Nathan like the world has dropped out from under him, like Nathan is the one thing that's still real. "Nathan, Garland Wuornos never touched you."

There's a flash, just a face, pretty blue eyes and straight black hair, the kindest smile that he'd ever seen. It isn't. It can't be. Nathan swallows, carefully focuses on the bathroom mirror, the Chief bandaging his wounds. "No." It's the most he's willing to give, and for once in his life Duke backs off. Rocks onto his heels, looking around the office, looking anywhere but Nathan.

Nathan's phone vibrating on the desk shatters the silence, too loud on Nathan's already sensitive ears. Words ringing, echoing through his head - _until we meet again_. Words that had never been spoken.

The phone vibrates louder, impossibly louder, until finally Duke stands to grab it.

"Audrey," he states calmly. Nathan makes a grab for the phone but Duke holds it back, a hand on Nathan's chest. Pushes him down far too easily. "Give it a minute," he tells Nathan, the closest to kindness they've ever been. The tightness in Nathan's chest is back, an ache long forgotten, a ghost of a memory of a friendship long gone. Duke's mouth tightens minutely as he finishes, "She doesn't need you to worry about too." The tightness vanishes.

"Go," Nathan says wearily. Hollowly. Everything feels hollow, stripped of meaning, stripped of reality. He wonders if his memories are as fake as Audrey's, wonders if any of his own past had been _real_.

Duke looks back at him from the doorway, face pale as Nathan's ever seen him, eyes sad and as tired as Nathan feels. "I know this is hard on Audrey, and I know you want to protect her." Duke licks his lips, smiles tightly as he looks away. "But it's hard on us too." It's so quiet Nathan almost doesn't hear, so hesitant it makes something pull in his chest. Again. It's the closest to an olive branch as they'll ever get, Nathan thinks. And then Duke is gone.

**xxx**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just 19 days left guys!
> 
> Reviews are love!
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER: Loneliest Girl in the World


	7. loneliest girl in the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _  
>  **watch you die a thousand times...**   
>  _
> 
> "Audrey?" Nathan. Right. She swallows hard, feels her throat close up unexpectedly. "You're aware it's 1am, right?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Spoilers:** Through s3  
>  **Chapter Rating:** T  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** None  
>  **Chapter Characters/Pairings:** Nathan/Audrey, Marah Friedman (past!Audrey)
> 
>  **Author's Notes:** Set during 3.10 "Burned", co-linear with last chapter.
> 
> Obviously s4 has premiered, but this story will still be based entirely off s3 canon. Any similarities with the s4 storyline are good guesswork on my part. So no s4 spoilers.
> 
> Song for this chapter is "[Loneliest Girl in the World](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6dybnhzMs2E)" by Cary Brothers

  
_you are the loneliest girl in the world_   
_taking your hits as they come_   
_you are the loneliest girl in the world_   
_and tonight you'd fall for anyone_   


**xxx**

Nathan calls back five minutes after she’d hung up, and Audrey nearly shoots her phone at the startling noise. She takes a few breaths, answers, “Parker,” in a voice she tries very hard to keep steady.

“Audrey?” Nathan. Right. She swallows hard, feels her throat close up unexpectedly. “You’re aware it’s 1am, right?” He sounds… off. Which shouldn’t surprise her, given the time – but then, she doubts he’d been sleeping. He might think she’s oblivious, but she’s well aware that he’s spending most nights at the station.

“Yeah,” she rasps. “I’m sorry, I just…” She can imagine the look on his face, studying her with his head tilted slightly, eyes worried.

“Just what?”

Audrey rubs her face, suddenly finding it very hard not cry. Because just Nathan’s voice, it’s enough to make her feel safer. And it’s enough to remind her that he’s _not here_. She knows she shouldn’t say anything, knows he has enough to worry about, but the words tumble from her mouth. “I’m sleeping on my couch with my gun,” she mumbles, and somehow it doesn’t sound quite as crazy as she’d thought it would.

Nathan sucks in a breath. “I’ll be over in ten.”

He makes it in eight, and Audrey stares at her phone the entire time, watching the glowing numbers slowly flick by. She’s not sure exactly how it had happened, but suddenly she needs Nathan _here_ more than anything she’s ever needed in her life. Maybe in _any_ of her lives.

There’s a knock on her door and an automatic jolt of panic, a rush of adrenaline. Her hands shake a little as she picks up her gun, peers carefully through the peephole to find Nathan. Just Nathan. She unlocks the door, flips the deadbolt, and finds herself locked in Nathan’s arms.

It’s the first time in weeks that she really _breathes._

She snakes her arms around his waist, clinging tightly, face pressed into the warm fabric of his jacket. It smells like coffee, like chinese food and those awful oils he has on his desk. It smells like home.

Nathan pulls back, eventually, when she’s started to shiver. He smiles down at her, murmurs, “Hey.” All she can do is try to smile back, knows her voice would betray her if she tried to speak. “Duke might try to evict you if we leave the door open any longer,” he states, as though her heating bill was the biggest problem of the evening, and suddenly she’s laughing. A little too close to hysterically. Nathan just orders gently, “Come inside, Parker.”

She starts to head back to the couch but he tugs her hand insistently, guides her to her bed. “Not a chance.” A protest dies half-formed on her tongue at the look on his face, so genuine and openly concerned, so _caring_. He looks as exhausted as she feels, worn to the bone, and the guilt is overwhelming.

“You need rest, Audrey,” he almost pleads. “You’re no good to anyone this exhausted, you know that.” _Neither are you_ , she wants to snap, but she’s done enough damage there.

Instead she swallows, heart beating faster at the thought of sleeping alone here, unprotected. The Skinwalker knows she lives here, and it could be _anyone_. ( _Even Nathan_ , an awful little voice in her head whispers. She squashes that ruthlessly.)

“I can’t.”

Nathan looks at her, intensely enough that she flushes, and says quietly, “I’ll stay.” She hears her breath catch, feels a relief so strong it’s overwhelming, nearly sends her staggering. He gently presses her onto the bed, gesturing pointedly at her pillows. “You sleep.”

“Nathan…”

“Parker.” It’s rare that he gets the final word on anything, but she’s exhausted and she needs him here too badly to push any further. There’s another surge of guilt – what right does she have to ask him here in the middle of the night, when she’s been so horrible? When he looks ready to pass out beside her?

“Audrey.” His voice is immeasurably softer and she realizes she’s just sitting there, staring at her shaking hands. “Whatever’s going on, with us, with…” He fades and the guilt surges stronger, but he reaches out to take her hand, kneeling in front of her. “You’re my partner.” He says it like it explains everything. (And somehow, it does. It always has, it always will.)

She lays down without another word, tugging the blankets over her and placing her gun on the nightstand. (It’s harder than it should be, letting that go. Nathan is _here_. She’s safe. She trusts him.)

“Sleep,” he says again, so gentle. She does.

**xxx**

_it's in the way you fall down to bed  
it's in the way you cry when he's not looking_

**xxx**

_She watches other parents with their children, watches them laugh and play and kiss wounds better. Places a hand on her stomach, feels the life within her move lazily, and an ache in her chest that grows with each day._

_She knows she can’t stay. Knows she’ll never watch her child grow, never hear its first word or watch it take its first step. Will never get to_ love _the little being inside her._

_Still, Marah knows her child will be alright. It will have its father, if not her. Even if Liam can never explain why Marah just one day vanished, one day left her child and her husband without a word, without a trace… She wonders if Liam will tell it the truth, or if he’ll make up a story. If he’ll consider Marah dead._

Tell no one, _the man had said. Tall and dark and foreboding, a smile on his face like he knew worlds more than her._

_For all intents and purposes, Marah supposes she will be dead. Should be already, but the life within her has granted her borrowed time._

_“My little warrior,” she whispers. There’s a slight kick in answer._

**xxx**

_you are the loneliest girl in the world  
i'll watch you die a thousand times again_

**xxx**

It’s only after he’s beyond certain Audrey is out that Nathan allows his body to sag, falling back into a chair. Audrey’s warmth against his chest, even slight through his shirt, had reminded him how tight his lungs still are, had made them _ache_ in a way he’d forgotten they could.

Still, in the face of her fear he’d quickly forgotten all of that. He’d known she hadn’t been sleeping – he doubts any of them are, really – but he hadn’t realized it had gone this far. She’s always so strong, so together, dealing with everything that comes her way with a capacity that leaves him gaping.

Or not.

He studies her, pale as ever. It seems that every day she fades a little more, retreats a little further into… wherever it is she goes. Somewhere he can’t follow.

The only time the lines of exhaustion and stress leave her forehead is when she sleeps. When the fear and pain fade from her face, when she gains a little color back, when if he sits still long enough he could almost pretend they’re months earlier and she has no deadline, no fate looming over all their heads like an unseen storm.

Not that he sees her sleep much at all anymore – no more movie nights where she falls asleep on his couch, stakeouts where she thumps her head on his car door or late night paperwork at the Gull when Duke finally kicks them out, citing Audrey’s drooling on his table a health hazard. Still, occasionally he’s caught her passed out at her desk at the station, or rarely napping on her couch (has to resist the urge to cover her with blankets, to soothe his fingers through her hair and along her face until those lines that mar it vanish.) It’s the most peaceful he ever sees her, and it always kills a little part of him when she jerks awake, terror in her eyes. Recently the dark circles beneath them only seem to get deeper, sleep seeming to do her more harm than good, and it’s enough that he’s ready to beg Claire to slip her sleeping pills.

Tonight, though. Tonight, he’s going to make sure she sleeps. He’ll sit here all night with his gun in hand if it will put her mind at ease. He’ll shut off her alarms and close all her blinds (and so help him, if Duke shows up tomorrow morning and wakes her he’ll shoot the man.)

She’d fallen asleep moments after her head had hit the pillow, and it wrenches something inside him, how easily she falls back into trusting him. How this is all she’s needed to be a thousand times more okay, and she wouldn’t ask him, wouldn’t tell him, wouldn’t let him do a damn thing. He’s not sure if he’s more angry or concerned, settles on grateful that she’d finally called him.

It’s not all that long before she starts to shift, her breathing coming in short gasps. She starts mumbling frantically, all the tranquility of sleep gone from her face, and it’s enough to get him to her side. He sits beside her hesitantly, whispers, “Easy, Parker. You’re okay.”

But she continues to writhe, whimpering quietly, until he reaches out to press her shoulders down gently, so gently. “You’re safe,” he murmurs, feeling her tremble in his grip. “I’m here, Audrey. You’re safe.” He continues his mantra, carefully tucking her hair back from her face when she stops thrashing so hard. Lets his hand linger on her cheek, on the lines on her face, and tries not to marvel at the softness of her skin, at how badly he’s _missed_ her.

She quiets, eventually, melting back into the mattress with an abandon he hasn’t seen in weeks. He’d forgotten she even knew how to let go, to shut off for a little while, to let someone else take care of things for a time. To let someone else take care of _her_.

When she finally wakes the next morning it’s late enough to satisfy him. The bruises under her eyes look smaller, and when he hands her mug of coffee she gives him a small smile he hasn’t seen in far too long.

He leaves her then, with a promise that she’ll eat before she comes in. Her soft, “Thank you,” is enough to send him grinning the entire drive to work.

**xxx**

_you are the loneliest girl in the world  
and i just want to make it go away_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are love!
> 
> (Marah Friedman = bitter servant of god)  
> (Liam = protector)


End file.
